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Back The Widow Save as PDF
Chapters (92)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. PART I
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. PART II
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. 74
  79. 75
  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. 82
  87. 83
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. MORE FROM VALERIE KEOGH
  90. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  91. The Murder List
  92. About Boldwood Books

‘And you get to keep this lovely house.’ Jo looked slowly around the living room and nodded. ‘Despite the hideous décor in the dining room, and the too-small-for-purpose kitchen, it must be worth what…’ She sat forward expectantly.

Did she really expect Allison to discuss the value of the house? She knew it, of course, she’d spent enough time poring over estate agents’ sites to have a fair idea it was worth between two point five and three million. And that was in its current condition. All that money going to the RSPCA. It curdled her gut to think about it.

‘I’d say it’s worth about three mil,’ Jo said, oblivious to the tension that tightened Allison’s expression. ‘That’s a hefty reward for three months’ marriage.’

‘I would, of course, prefer to have my husband.’

Jo laughed. A forced, too-loud noise, lacking any humour. ‘Really? It’s a shame he fell under that train, then, isn’t it?’

49

Jo laughed aloud to see Allison’s jaw drop and her eyes widen so much she thought they might pop out of her head. It made Jo laugh louder, tears of merriment running down her cheek. ‘Your face, oh my goodness, that’s the best laugh I’ve had in a while.’

‘What a wicked, insensitive thing to say!’

‘You were in such a hurry to leave me that day, you never bothered to look back to see if I went into the station. I didn’t, of course; I followed you.’

Jo saw the fear in her eyes, the doubt. ‘That’s a very neat raincoat you keep folded in your handbag, isn’t it? I was surprised to see you take it out and slip it on as you walked, more so to see you pull the hood up as you entered the station. Nobody paid any attention, of course; this is London – laissez-faire rules the day. You were walking fast, but not too fast, nothing to draw attention to yourself. I’d no idea what you were planning till we reached the platform, then I remembered you saying you’d made your poor husband promise to leave his office at a certain time. It wasn’t rocket science to realise you’d planned to arrive at the same time.

‘I’m guessing you knew he liked to stand in a certain place on the platform. Frequent travellers often do, I notice. The platform was unusually crowded. You must have been delighted. It made your job ever so much easier.’

It was interesting to watch the play of emotions on Allison’s face, a determination to deny morphing into acceptance before changing again, this time settling on an acknowledgement she’d been outmanoeuvred.